


Simply Irresistible

by grlnxtdr29



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlnxtdr29/pseuds/grlnxtdr29
Summary: After losing his inspiration, Chef Kurt Hummel is on the verge of losing his restaurant as well. Meanwhile Business mogul Blaine Anderson has something of a jaded view on love. With a little help from a mysterious creature and a sprinkle of magic, can they find what they need in each other?





	1. A Crabby Introduction

Kurt loved going to the open air market in the morning. It was one of his favorite parts of living in New York. But this particular morning he was much too stressed out to enjoy the usual sounds and scents and sights.

He'd received a notice from his landlord saying that the rent on the building was going up. He could barely afford the cost of keeping The Southern Cross open as it was. The thought that he might lose not only his apartment above his business, but also the restaurant that had been his mother's dream broke his heart. He remembered how she would always talk about owning a small bistro in Greenwich Village. Some place small and artistic, with a stage were local musicians could perform. He had watched her cook the most amazing things, and had learned at her side.

Elizabeth Hummel had died before she could ever see her dream fulfilled, but her son had carried it with him when he had moved here after graduating high school. He had scrimped and saved every penny he had earned since his mother passed away when he was eight. The first year had been great, the locals had flocked to the place. The food had been well received, despite the fact that Kurt had never gone to culinary school. The recipes he used had all been his mother's, with just a few of his own modifications.

But then tragedy had struck. His stepbrother, Finn had died, and Kurt had realized that he was twenty two years old and had never had a relationship, and that life was fragile. He'd slipped into a mild depression, and had lost his inspiration to cook. The food lost some of it's appeal, and the customers slowly began to decline, until only a handful of faithful regulars was left. If he didn't get himself together and start drawing in new customers soon, he would be forced to close down in a little over a month.

Today he was determined to find something to inspire him once more. He stopped by the produce area first, smiling at the middle aged woman behind the table and the young girl beside her. "Hello, Maggie, Allison. What's fresh today?"

The older woman, Maggie gave him a motherly smile. "Morning, Kurt. The raspberries are fresh, just picked yesterday!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Allison roll her eyes, he turned and looked at her, and behind her mother's back she mouthed the word "blackberries."

"Uh, you know, I think I'm going to go with blackberries today. And how about a few of those peaches as well." The older woman shrugged and bagged up his order, handing him his change as they talked about the weather. As she turned to help the next customer, he winked at the younger girl, and gave her a high five.

His next stop was the mushroom vendor. He thought he might try making the golden mushroom soup his mother used to make, but when he reached the fungus guy, his stall was nearly wiped out. "Hey Sam, where are your Crimini?"

The blonde man laughed. "You're too late today, Kurt. Delcroix has swept through and rounded up every mushroom I had except the enoki and a few snow white."

"What?" Kurt said in frustration. "Who the hell is Delcroix?"

Sam just shrugged. "Some fancy schmancy French Chef. Apparently they're opening a new restaurant inside Duvall's Department store, and he's going to be the head chef."

"Great, now what am I going to do with no criminis?"

"Sorry, dude."

Kurt rolled his eyes and walked away, not even bothering to tell the blonde man not to call him dude. Fine, so the mushroom soup was out. What about the squash bisque?

He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and saw a blonde woman gesturing him closer. "Hi Kurt!"

"Uh, do I know you?" He asked, not recognizing her, though there was something vaguely familiar about her.

"No, we haven't met yet. I'm Brittany S. Pierce, and your mom asked me to say hello for her!"

"Oh, I think you've mistaken me for someone else. My mother is dead."

"I know, but that doesn't mean she's not concerned about you. Now these are what you need today. Peekytoes." She all but shoved a basket full of live crab at him.

"Um, I don't think so. I wouldn't know what to do with them even if I wanted them."

The blonde girl just smiled at him. "Come on, Kurt. You need to start living your life again. The wind from one door slamming opens another."

Kurt frowned in confusion. "My mom used to say that all the time."

"She still does. Now, take the crabs, and be inspired. Oh, and watch out, that one is escaping!"

Kurt looked down just in time to see one of the crabs scuttling under the table. He reached down to grab it, but the little thing was quicker than expected, and easily dodged his hand, disappearing into another stall behind the one he was standing at. He chased the little creature down, though he didn't know why he bothered. He didn't want them.

But he continued to chase the bastard, kneeling down and almost ruining one of his favorite pairs of jeans crawling under a table clothe just in time to see the sea monster disappearing out the other end. "Oh no you don't!" He shot out his hand and snatched at the tiny menace.

"Gotcha!" He yelled as he pushed the table clothe off his face, and came face to foot with a very expensive pair of loafers, his hand wrapped tightly around the man's ankle. His eyes very slowly made their way up the man's body (and a very nice body it was, too,) until they met a pair of melted gold eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I was just trying to..." his voice trailed off as his face flushed red, finding it almost impossible to look away from that handsome face.

"You were just trying to?" The voice was light, and sounded like it was always on the verge of laughter.

"I was just trying to catch my crab," Kurt said, glancing back down at the creature, and realizing he still had his hand on the man's calf. He yanked his hand back and stood up.

"Your crab?" The man said, the laughter bubbling up, and then was cut off as said crab bit his ankle. Kurt reached down and grabbed it.

"Uh, yes. He's going to be lunch today in my restaurant."

"You have a restaurant?" The man asked, sounding curious.

Kurt smiled. "Yes, The Southern Cross."

"And what are you going to make with the crab?"

Kurt's mind went blank. He had no idea. He'd never cooked crab before. "Uh, something very delicate and flavorful" a sign on a passing bus caught his attention, advertising Neapolitan ice cream. "Crab Napoleon, actually."

The dark hared man smiled again. "Sounds wonderful. I wish I could try it." Someone called out from the crowd and the man turned to look over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Good luck with your crab!"

Kurt watched him go, a bemused expression on his face, until Brittany came over with the rest of the crabs in the basket. "Oh good, you met him. You two have big things in store for you!"

Kurt looked at her, frowning. "I barely met the guy. I don't even know his name! And we'll probably never see each other again." Kurt felt a small pang of regret at that thought.

The blonde girl just smiled airily at him and handed him the basket of crabs. Kurt sighed and took them reluctantly. Really, what on Earth was he going to do with the things?


	2. The Theory of Dating

Blaine Anderson buttoned his suit coat as he entered Duvall's, and immediately spotted Jeff, his assistant, making his way over. "Blaine, there is a man in your office, tall, brownish hair, annoying voice, much too skinny. Said he knows you?"

"Oh god, Sebastian. What is he doing here?"

"I don't know, he said something about meshing your schedules? I offered him a sandwich. He looked like a good wind could knock him over."

They reached his office on the executive floor just as the man in question came swooping out, smiling brightly at him and giving him a big kiss on the lips.

"Hey, Blainey, I just merged our schedules!"

"I hope you used a condom," Jeff muttered under his breath, though Blaine actually heard him, and tried to stifle his snort of laughter, covering it with a small cough.

"What was that?" Sebastian asked the blonde.

Blaine cut off his response, distracting the taller man. "Merging our schedules? Wow, that's a big step, Seb."

"Well, now I'll always know where you are, sweetie. Oh, gotta go. I'll see you at lunch, though." He kissed him once again, on the cheek, before waving goodbye and walking away. Blaine and Jeff entered the office, where his schedule was now prominently displayed on the wall monitor.

"Oh my god, he color coded it."

Jeff stood next to his boss and best friend. "Merging schedules, Blaine? This sounds serious. Do you like him that much?"

"I don't know, I mean we've already had three dates. The truth is I was going to take him to a nice lunch today and break up with him."

"What? Why?"

"Well as I said, we've gone out on three dates, and it's been my experience that after the third date, the enjoyment factor falls off significantly. That's my theory, anyway. I mean, look at this," he went to the keyboard on his desk and the image on the monitor changed from the rainbow colored schedule to a flow chart. There were names listed; Sam, Jeremiah, and a couple of others, with Sebastian's name at the bottom.

"Look, the first few dates, things are exciting and new, and things are great, but then after the third date, the fun dies off, and you start to think what is this between us? Is this a relationship? Will it last, will we get married? Have two point five kids, and live in a big house with a white picket fence? Who needs that pressure?"

Jeff studied the chart. "I'm not sure which is more scary, your train of thought or the fact that you keep a flow chart of your dating life. But the question is, what is it you do after the third date that scares them off?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your little hobby," Jeff said reaching out to pluck one of the four dozen paper airplanes that were displayed around the room from its specially designed podium.

"Don't touch the airplanes!" Blaine said snatching it from him, and carefully smoothing it out. The phone on the desk rang, and Blaine picked it up. "Anderson. Yes, Cindy, I'm on my way. Tell Nick I'll be there in three minutes."

At the mention of Blaine's employer, Jeff perked up and began straightening his hair and suit jacket. Blaine smirked at him as he hung up the phone. "Oh come on, Jeff. It's been three years, he's never going to notice you."

"I can't help it. He drives me nuts. It's his hands. I want them on me!"

Blaine rolled his eyes as they left his office.

…

Kurt arrived at the Southern Cross, basket of crabs in tow. He set them down on the counter in front of his sous chef, Santana, who was peeling carrots. She looked at the basket of sea creatures. "What the hell is this?"

"Peekytoes, apparently." Kurt said as he unloaded the rest of his purchases.

"Why'd you buy them? You know no one is going to eat them."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't really given a choice. Some strange woman at the market all but dumped them on me. She said she knew my mom, and that the crabs would give me inspiration."

The Latina gave him a strange look. "Believe it or not that isn't the first time a guy has said that to me..."

"Eww! TMI!" Kurt stuck his fingers in his ears and began humming.

She smacked him in the arm. "Watch it Hummel!"

He laughed for a moment, but then sobered up. "I got a letter from the landlord today, Tana. He's raising the rent. We aren't cutting it. We haven't for a while now."

"So, does this mean we're closing?"

"Unless a miracle happens, yes. We'll have to close by the end of the month." Kurt said, sitting down at the prep table.

"Well, the wind from one door slamming opens another."

"What?"

"Did I say it wrong?" The dark haired girl asked.

"No, it's just, she said that. The lady at the market, Brittany Pierce. And my mom used to say it all the time."

"Hmmm, weird coincidence."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, anyway, maybe we can get jobs somewhere else. We could place an add, if we had the money."

Kurt shrugged and began prepping his station. "Yeah, I can just see it now. 'Crappy chef and sous chef seek restaurant to ruin.'"

"Come on, Boss, it's not that bad. Think positive."

"Fine. Why don't you boil the crabs while I try to figure out what I am going to do with them."

"Okay, beasties, you guys are going in the sauna." Neither of them noticed that one of the crabs was missing.

Kurt went to open the dining room, where Marge and Meredith were already waiting. The older lesbian couple were two of his regulars, and treated him like a favorite grandson. As he seated them, Winslow, another regular came in, carrying a paper bag. Kurt knew it carried a Ruben sandwich from the deli down the street. He should have been offended that the man brought food from another place in, but the truth was he couldn't blame the man.

"You guys won't believe what I just heard," The older man said, opening his lunch bag. "The bodega down on the corner? Closed. They couldn't pay the rent."

"Another one?" Marge asked. "That's the fifth business in the last three months."

"Well, at least we still have some place to eat," Meredith spoke up, ever the optimist.

Kurt felt a lump grow in his throat. He'd grown found of the three older people who were daily fixtures in his restaurant over the last few years. "Well, actually, there was something I needed to tell you all. They're raising the rent here as well. I won't be able to stay open after the end of this month."

"What? No! You can't close down! Where will we go for lunch?"

Kurt felt a tear trickle down his cheek. "It's okay, Mere. We all know you don't really come here for my food anyway. None of you do."

"Oh, honey," Marge said, standing up and hugging him. "Everything will work out, you'll see. Maybe things will pick up before the end of the month, and you'll be able to stay open."

"Thanks, Marge. I think I'm going to step outside and get a breath of fresh air." He hugged the older woman once more, then moved outside.

Meanwhile, Blaine and Sebastian were sliding into a cab outside of Duvall's, both men on their cellphones.

"Chantrel's, Please," Blaine informed the female driver, before being distracted by his phone again. Beside him, Sebastian, who was a lawyer, was spouting out some legal jargon he didn't understand. Neither of them were paying attention when the cab came to a stop.

"That will be twenty bucks," The driver said. The two men climbed out, and Blaine turned back to pay the driver, who according to the ID on the dash was named Brittany. It wasn't until he'd handed her the money that he realized that this was not the location he was expecting.

"Hang on, this isn't Chantrel's."

"Do I have to do everything for you?" The young blonde woman said, exasperated, before driving off.

"Wait!" Blaine cried out, looking around, trying to figure out where he was. He spotted the restaurant across the street, The Southern Cross, and there, sitting on the step was the man from the market that Morning.

"Oh, wait, Babe, it's that way," Sebastian said, pointing up the street after looking up the address, but Blaine wasn't paying attention, smiling at the auburn haired man across the street, who had just looked up and noticed him.

"Oh, god," Kurt muttered, standing up and wiping his pants off. Just great, the good looking man from the market place, just in time to witness his humiliation.


	3. Of Plates and Perfection

"Oh good," Sebastian said, spotting Kurt. "Can you give us directions to Chantrel's?"

"You!" Blaine interrupted.

Sebastian looked between them. "You know him?"

Blaine smiled. "His crab bit me this morning in the marketplace."

"I'm so sorry about that," Kurt said.

"Uh huh," Sebastian said. "Anyway, can you tell us how to get to Chantrel's?"

"Oh, yes, it's two blocks that way."

"Thanks. Let's go, Babe." Sebastian began tugging on Blaine's arm, but the shorter man didn't budge.

"No, we're here, we might as well just stay for lunch."

Kurt's face fell. "I'm sorry. Lunch is over, like forever."

"Oh, so you were just teasing me earlier?"

"What?" Kurt asked, startled.

"What?" Sebastian said, sounding a little miffed.

Blaine just continued to smile. "The crab Napoleon? It sounded amazing, and now I'm in the mood for crab. That crab, to be exact."

Sebastian huffed in displeasure, but decided not to argue. "Fine. Do you have a menu?"

Kurt couldn't find an excuse to deny them, so lead them inside. The three older patrons looked up in surprise when they saw the new costumers following Kurt. They smiled encouragingly at him as he took up two menus and showed the couple to a table.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Iced tea, please," Blaine said.

"Just water." Sebastian was frowning down at the menu.

Kurt nodded and went to get the drinks. "Santana, we have costumers! What am I going to do!" He hissed in a whisper to his best friend.

The Latina looked up at him from where she was about to dump the crabs into the boiling water. "Tell them we're closed."

"I can't!"

"Then I'll tell them!"

"NO!" Kurt all but shouted. "I don't want hi-them to go!"

"Him?" She latched on.

"This guy I met in the market this morning. My crab bit him. Now he says he wants to bite the crab back!"

Santana smirked. "Then I guess you need to find one of your mom's recipes!"

"Right, yes. Recipes. I'll go look upstairs. Can you take them an iced tea and a water?"

He ran upstairs and pulled out the box of recipes, opening it. He didn't expect to find his mother's brooch sitting on top. The small piece was shaped like a butterfly, and glittered with pink crystal and faux sapphire and emerald. His mother had worn it almost every day. He was lost in thought, remembering sitting beside her as she made something delicious, singing along to something on the radio, and watching her brooch twinkling in the sunlight.

He closed the box and walked back downstairs, pinning the brooch to his shirt. Santana was coming back in from the dining room, and spotted him.

"Did you find a recipe?" She asked, taking in his dazed expression.

"Huh? Oh, no. But I found my mom's brooch."

"Pretty. Maybe we can hock it for the rent money."

"What? No! It was my mom's!"

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Make sure the crabs are cooked." He went out to the dining room again. "Sorry about that. Will you both be having the crab?"

"Yes, please," Blaine said.

"No," replied Sebastian. "Look, I was wondering if you could do just a very simple chicken paillard?"

Kurt forced a smile. "Of course."

He walked back into the kitchen. "One chicken paillard for the mistake he's with."

Santana, who had been peeking through the small window in the door between the dining room and the kitchen, shrugged. "He's not a mistake, he's perfect."

"No he's not," Kurt said, pulling a boneless chicken breast from the meat locker and setting it on the cutting block. He picked up a meat mallet and began pounding the breast flat. "He obviously isn't into guys like that. With perfect hair, and perfect skin, and perfect clothes, and matching shoes and belts." Kurt accentuated every word with slam of the mallet down on the meat, taking out his frustration. Santana gave him a reproving look, and Kurt realized he'd nearly pulverized the meat. He used a pair of tongs to put it into a frying pan. "He's going to have a nervous breakdown one day, and if you can't see that, I feel sorry for you!"

Santana gave him a look. Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Are the crabs done?"

Santana went to the pot on the stove and lifted the lid. "The crabs...are dead. Have you figured out what you are going to make with them?"

Kurt shrugged. "Just bring me...everything."

Unbeknownst to Kurt and Santana, a pair of eyes watched over them from the top of the supply shelves, as Kurt began to assemble a plate.

"Have you ever noticed how many ways there are to say delicious?" Kurt asked, his voice dreamy. "Savory. Succulent. Scrumptious. Yummy. Delectable..."

His voice faded off as he looked down at the plate, surprised to find something that looked incredible, and not knowing how he had made it. "Um, Santana?"

The dark haired girl glanced over and saw the creation on the plate. "Wow. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know."

Santana shrugged, and took the two dishes out to the dining room.

Kurt watched from the kitchen, worried about how the couple would react to his food, but couldn't hear what they were saying.

…

Blaine smiled in appreciation as the plate was set before him. "This looks amazing." He folded his napkin in his lap, and looked at the man seated beside him. "You know, Sebastian, I've been thinking a lot about us, you and me."

"Me too," the taller man said, smiling.

"You have?"

"Yes, I already feel closer to you than I have with anyone else. Us merging our schedules is just going to make us even closer." Sebastian kissed his knuckles, and then took a bite of his chicken. Almost immediately, he began coughing.

Meanwhile, Blaine had taken a bite of his crab Napoleon, and was moaning in enjoyment. He barely glanced at the other man, and asked if he was alright, even as he took another bite of the succulent meal before him.

Sebastian nodded, still coughing. "You are such a controlling asshole!" He said, and slapped his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I just said that!" He continued to chew on the bite of chicken in his mouth.

"Are you feeling alright?" Blaine asked, not really paying attention to the other man, too enamored of the food in front of him.

"You know what?" Sebastian said, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. "I'm too good for you. Me! With my perfect hair, and perfect skin, and perfect wardrobe! Look at this!" He said, standing. "My shoes and belt match!"

...

In the kitchen, Kurt was still lamenting that he couldn't hear.

"What is he saying?"

"I don't know," Santana replied.

"He looks like he's on something."

"He's on your food, that's what it is..."

…

"No one is that perfect, Seb," Blaine said around another moan as he forked more of the crab into his mouth. He couldn't get enough. "So yummy! And Scrumptious!" he murmured under his breath.

Sebastian had tugged at his belt, glancing down at himself. "I am. So perfect. And if you can't see that," He leaned over and belched in Blaine's face. "I feel sorry for you. Excuse me." He grabbed Blaine's tie and wiped his face on it. And then smeared mashed potatoes all over Blaine's face. "I've decided I'm wasting my time with you!"

Blaine didn't even seem to notice, just continued to eat his own meal, exclaiming about how delicious it was. Sebastian then turned to the little nook in the corner and picked up several plates. "I hate this place! These plates don't even match!" He giggled. "None of them match!"

The three older patrons, who had been watching in shock, ducked as the tall man began throwing plates around the small restaurant, smashing them against the wall. Blaine didn't even look up from his food.

Sebastian continued to giggle as he grabbed his suit jacket and stormed out. Kurt and Santana rushed into the dining room then.

"Is everyone okay?" Kurt asked, walking gingerly, trying to avoid the shattered china.

Blaine shoved one more bite into his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into him."

"He's got a bit of a temper," Kurt said sarcastically, as he picked up bits of plate.

"Yeah, not usually. Most be the curse of the fourth date."

"What?"

"Nothing, just a theory I have. This was delicious, by the way. What did you put into it? I'm Blaine by the way. Dill?"

"Blaine Dill?"

"Anderson, did you use dill?"

"Anderson?"

"Send me the bill." He began to giggle. "That rhymed, didn't it? With Dill?"

Kurt just nodded looking confused. "I will."

That just seemed to make Blaine laugh harder. "I mean, wow, that was...Mmm. What's your name?"

"Kurt. Hummel."

"Kurt. Amazing. Hummel. Mmm. Look, here's my business card, call me and I'll make arrangements to replace your plates." He took one more bite from his plate. "Oh, so good! I...I have to get back to my office. It was nice to meet you!" And then he backed out the door, still muttering about the mouth watering food.

"What just happened?" Kurt asked Santana. The dark haired girl could only shrug. And the tiny crab on the shelves seemed to have a pleased expression on his face.


	4. Desserts, Distractions, and Dancing

"What the hell happened to you?" Jeff asked as soon as Blaine returned to Duvall's, noting the ruined shirt and tie his boss was wearing.

"Jeff, I just had the most...amazing lunch!"

"Yeah, well, it's such a shame you didn't get any of it in your mouth."

"What?" He asked, confused, and then looked at his shirt and tie. "Oh, no. This is Sebastian's lunch."

"I take it he didn't take the news very well?"

"No, no. I never got around to telling him. He just sort of had a nervous breakdown or something. And then He dumped me!"

"But isn't that what you wanted anyway?"

Blaine looked affronted. "Not like that! I have feelings, Jeff! He was so...cruel! I don't know if he even ever liked me at all!"

"That's horrible." Jeff said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "Come on, let's get you changed. Nick is expecting you up in the restaurant in twenty minutes."

"You should have been there, Jeff. They had the most delicious crab Napoleon!"

"I'll have to try it out someday. Go change your shirt and tie." The executive assistant waited outside his boss's private restroom. "Tell me, something, Blaine. How can I get Nick to notice me?"

"Simple," the dark haired man said as he finished changing. "Immortality. His, not his grandfather's. Nick is desperate to get out from the old man's shadow. Why do you think he is so desperate to open this restaurant?"

"That's it?" Jeff asked.

"Yep," his boss said, stepping out of the bathroom, freshly dressed, and face scrubbed clean.

When they arrived at the top floor restaurant, workers were installing mirrored panels along one wall, while Nicholas Duvall was frowning at floor samples. "Anderson, care to explain to me why we are paying $100,000 on a floor that makes me dizzy to look at? This doesn't look like a restaurant, it looks like a set from a 1940's MGM musical!"

"Exactly! That's the atmosphere we're trying to create. We want it to seem like a fantasy experience. Take them out of their crab...er, drab lives for a while." Blaine looked at Jeff, confused by his slip up. "Some times you have to spend the dough to bring in the dill...dollar!"

Jeff was shocked by his boss's loss of concentration, but jumped in to help him out. "And don't forget, by exporting Nick's to all our stores around the world, there will be Nick's everywhere! Royalties rolling in, articles written about you. You, Nick, not your grandfather, Henry. You will be...immortal." His eyes flicked briefly to Blaine's as he spoke the last word, before shifting back to the man of his hottest fantasies.

Nick studied the blonde man for a moment. "I like you, Jeff. You think with your nuts."

Blaine rolled his eyes.

…

As Santana finished sweeping up the last of the broken plates later that evening, Kurt sat at the prep station and glanced through one of his mother's old cook books. After Blaine had left that afternoon, they had actually had a few customers come in. A tourist bus had broken down around the corner, and the tourists had all been hungry. This had been the only place they could find that was open. They had all enjoyed the food, and the Southern Cross had actually turned a profit for the day.

"All locked up, boss," Santana said, dumping the contents of the dust pan in the trash and sitting beside him. "What are you looking at?"

"Dessert recipes. They were always my favorite things to help mom make. What do you think of these?" He pointed to a recipe for caramel eclairs.

"Looks complicated. Why don't you try that sugar cookie recipe?" she teased.

"What? You don't believe I can make them?"

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, and then stood. "Good night, Kurt."

"Night, Tana." He watched his best friend leave, and then turned back to the recipe book. With a determined smile, he stood and began gathering the ingredients he would need.

…

When Santana returned the next morning to begin prep for the day, she was surprised to find a dozen pans of perfect caramel eclairs cooling on every surface.

"He did it!" She said, smiling. She went to the stairs that led up to Kurt's apartment, calling out his name.

"I'm in the bedroom, Tana! And don't touch the bears!"

Ignoring her friend's command, the Latina went directly to the dresser where a pair of vintage teddy bears sat, picking both of them up and beginning to play with them, as Kurt rummaged in his closet.

"How does this look?" He asked stepping out holding up an outfit.

She glanced at him, looking over the clothes. "For what?"

Kurt hedged, turning back into the closet. "Shopping for plates."

The dark haired girl raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Blaine did say he'd replace them."

"Oh, Blaine said," she teased.

"Come on, Satan, help me out here, please!" He held up another outfit.

"No," she said, barely looking up from where she was making the bears kiss each other. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I don't know how to act around Blaine. My mind goes blank. I mean, what do you talk about with a guy like that?"

"That's easy. Sex."

"What?" Kurt yelped.

"Men think about sex all the time. I saw it on Dateline, or something. Men think about sex an average of two hundred and thirty eight times a day."

"That can't be right! I'm a guy and I don't think about sex that much!"

"Yes, but you're a prude! Look, you know when you see a guy adjusting his belt? That's when he's thinking about it!"

"Oh Gaga, why did you tell me that! Now every time I see that I'm going to think about it!"

"Hey, girls think about it all the time too, not as much as guys, but they do! And then they cross their arms under their boobs!"

"I'm not listening! LALALALALALA!"

Santana laughed and set the bears down. "I gotta go."

"Wait!" Kurt pulled one last outfit out of the closet and held it up. Santana studied it, and then crossed her arms. Noting the movement, Kurt smiled. "Really?"

Santana looked down and realized what she had just done, and then laughed and nodded her head. "Yeah, that one."

…

Blaine was passing through the men's cologne department, and stopped to admire a display that one of the associates was setting up.

"No, no, Joe, the round ones should be on top, the square ones on the bottom. See, doesn't that look better?"

"So much better, boss. Thank you!"

"Keep up the good work!" Blaine said, patting Joe on the back before continuing on to meet Jeff. They had an appointment with the German banker who had financed the restaurant, and who wanted an update and tour.

A moment after Blaine had left, Joe felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," said a somewhat effeminate voice. "Can you tell me where to find Blaine Anderson?"

Joe barely looked away from the display. "Uh, yes, he was here just a minute ago. There he is, on the mezzanine."

Kurt looked up where the young associate had pointed, and saw Blaine speaking with a blonde man. "Thank you." He was so focused on Blaine, he wasn't paying attention when he stepped forward, bumping into the table the associate was working on and knocking over a part of the display. "I'm so sorry!"

Blaine heard the commotion and glanced down, smiling goofily when he saw Kurt trying to help the associate pick up the bottles he'd knocked over. He heard Jeff call his name, but ignored him as he made his way down the stairs.

"Well hello," he said, grinning.

Kurt smiled, embarrassed. "Hi."

"Here, let Joe take care of this," He took the unbroken bottles from the pale man, handing them off to the associate, and helping Kurt to his feet. "Surprised to see you here. Do you shop here often?"

"Me? No, never. I thought you said you'd replace the plates?"

"I thought you'd send me the bill?"

"Don't you sell plates here?"

Blaine laughed. "We do. China is on the fourth floor."

Kurt nodded, still feeling awkward. "And do all these elevators go to the fourth floor?"

"Pick one, press four." As if to prove his point, the elevator behind them chimed.

"Of course."

Blaine began to speak again just as Joe began to vacuum up the broken glass.

"There's a lovely new set just in from Italy..."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," Kurt said, frowning.

Blaine studied the slightly taller male, and then straightened up a little, stepping forward to take his elbow and guide him to the elevator. "I'll just show you."

…

"How is your boyfriend today? Feeling better?" Kurt asked twenty minutes later.

"I guess. And he's not my boyfriend anymore. I don't know what came over him. He's usually so...calm. "

"Did you do something to provoke him?"

"I don't think so. Did you?" Blaine teased.

"No. Okay, so," Kurt said. "I'll take eight of those on the display there, these on this table, and those in the hutch there."

"Eight each?"

"Is that too much?"

"No, no." Blaine smiled and then called out to another floor associate. "Tina, if you please, eight of the Suzette, the orange, and the lily, and just give me the bill to sign off on."

The petite Asian girl smiled, and quickly filled out the order form, and handed it to Blaine, who signed it, and took the customer copy. He absently began folding the paper into an airplane as he spoke.

"I'll have these delivered to you by tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Very bold choices, I might add. Explains the outfit."

Kurt paused as they walked back towards the elevators. "To eliminate a layer, would have taken another thirty minutes," he replied playfully. Blaine laughed. "I bet it doesn't take you long to get dressed."

"No, I do seem to come out of the shower fully dressed in the morning in a suit and a tie."

"And a belt," Kurt added.

"No, I don't wear a belt, I prefer suspenders."

"Oh," Kurt blushed, and turned away.

"Why?"

"No reason. Oh, this is nice!" Kurt said, admiring a Hermes scarf and trying to change the subject.

"Oh come on, you can't make a statement like that and not explain."

Kurt refused to look at him. "It's nothing, really. It's just that my best friend, Santana said that most guys think about sex 238 times a day, and when they do they play with their..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the other man toying with his suspenders.

Blaine glanced down and realized what he was doing. "No! No, I wasn't...I mean, that can't be right. Think about it, I'm awake what, seventeen hours a day, do the math. Times sixty, divided by 238, that would mean I think about sex every...four minutes...Huh. Yeah, that's about right."

Kurt was shocked. "I've been here twenty minutes."

"And?"

"One good sexual thought takes at least twenty minutes."

The awkward silence that followed was interrupted by a blonde sales associate calling out. "Mr. Anderson, your assistant is looking for you, he says the meeting with the bankers.."

"Started twenty minutes ago, yes, thank you Quinn." He smiled at the pretty woman, and then turned back to Kurt. "I should get back to work."

"Yeah, me too."

"I'll see you out."

"Nice sweep back, by the way," Kurt said, indicating the paper airplane.

"Oh, thanks. You know about paper airplanes?"

"I hated algebra in high school. Does it fly?"

"It does, although not always where I want it to. For instance, I'm aiming for that bucket over there." He indicated a decorative bucket on a display table. He took careful aim, and launched the airplane. At first it flew straight and true, but then it caught an updraft from somewhere, and cork screwed before changing directions and landing in Quinn's hair, startling her.

Kurt and Blaine both giggled, and then ducked into the closest elevator. Blaine pushed the button for the first floor, and then smiled back at Kurt. "You never did tell me what was in that dish yesterday."

"Oh, that reminds me," Kurt said, digging a small bakery box out of his messenger bag. "Your meal yesterday came with dessert, which you didn't get." He handed the box to the shorter male.

Blaine opened it, and the smell of caramel eclair filled the small space. "These smell delicious!" He carefully lifted one out of the box and took a bite. The moan he let out was almost obscene. "Oh god! These are so...mmm"

He took another bite as the elevator door opened on the second floor, and another store associate entered. Blaine began to giggle uncontrollably "This is Rory, have you met him? He works in shoes."

Kurt just smiled politely. Blaine continued to giggle as he spoke. "I love shoes. I love how we sell shoes in pairs. It's so...Noah's ark."

The elevator dinged on the first floor, and as soon as the doors opened, Blaine shoved Rory out and pressed the door closed button. "Change of plan. Here, you should try these!"

He shoved the last bite of the first eclair into Kurt's mouth before he could protest. Almost immediately, Kurt felt a flush fill him, and giddiness over whelmed him as Blaine pulled him off the elevator. They were both giggling as they swung by the kitchen in the new restaurant, peeking in the door. An older man in a chef's hat was holding a truffle and a truffle shaver up, while his staff stood in a line, as if taking communion at mass, waiting to receive a piece of truffle.

"Man may do great things, but only god can make a truffle." The older man said in a vaguely French accent.

"That's Delcroix," Blaine whispered, sounding almost drunk.

"He's insane," Kurt declared, still giggling.

"Come on!" Blaine said, pulling him along to the dining room.

"I feel loopy!" Kurt proclaimed, looking around in awe at the gorgeous dance floor, the mirrored walls, and the black and white décor. Seemingly out of no where, music began to play, and Kurt smiled. He loved this song. He crooked his finger at Blaine, and began to sing.

I wanna dance!

Clocks strikes upon the hour  
And the sun begins to fade  
Still enough time to figure out  
How to chase all my blues away  
I've done alright up 'til now  
Its the light of day that shows me how  
And when the night falls my lonely heart calls

Kurt and Blaine whirled around the dance floor, moving in time to the music, bodies in perfect sync.

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me  
Oh, I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me

Nick Duvall entered the dining room, searching for Blaine, who never showed up for the banker's meeting, only to find him dancing with some auburn haired young man, even though there wasn't any music playing. Annoyed, he called out for the man, but Blaine seemed not to hear him at all.

I've been in love and lost my senses  
Spinning through the town  
Sooner or later the fever ends  
And I wind up feeling down  
I need a man who'll take a chance  
On a love that burns hot enough to last  
So when the night falls  
My lonely heart calls

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me  
Oh, I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat  
Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me

As the song faded off, Kurt and Blaine were so close, their lips were almost touching, hearts racing. But reality closed in around them, and they slowly pulled apart.


	5. Fog Warning

"Do you think he'll call?" Kurt asked his best friend. It was the day after his shopping trip uptown. They were busy filling orders. The tourists from the tour bus the other day had raved about the food, and three more tour groups had all stopped in for lunch, filling the place to capacity.

After Blaine's boss had chewed him out for missing the meeting with the bankers, Blaine had smiled at Kurt, and said he'd call. But what did that mean, exactly? Would he call today? Tonight? Tomorrow? When? Would he even call at all?

Rather than responding (for the millionth time since Kurt's return the day before, or so it felt...) Santana just huffed, wiped her hands on a towel, and picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Hello, Blaine Anderson, please." She smirked at her friend and boss.

"Santana, no! No!" Kurt hissed, trying to grab the phone.

…

"So," Jeff said, smirking at his friend and boss. "You danced with him?"

"And sang. At least I think we did. It's hard to remember now. It's so strange. It was almost like a third date."

"Sounds like you really like him. What was his name again?"

"Kur..."

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Anderson, Kurt Hummel on line two."

Blaine's eyes widened in shock.

"Answer it!" Jeff urged.

"No! You Answer! Tell him I'm not here!"

"Come on, Blaine, just talk to him!" Jeff picked up the receiver and shoved it at him.

Blaine gave an ungracious huff, and answered the phone. "Hello?"

…

"Say something!" Santana hissed as Kurt just stood there with the phone to his ear.

"Uh, Blaine, hi."

"Kurt, hi! What's up?"

"Um, I was just wondering, uh, if, um, you wanted to maybe stop by the restaurant tonight for dinner?" His voice got higher and higher as he spoke.

…

"Tonight?" Blaine asked, sounding a bit skeptical. Jeff glared at him. "Let me check my schedule."

Jeff started to bring up the schedule on the computer, as Blaine tapped the phone on the desk a few times, not even looking at the display. "Hmm, looks like I have meetings with the bankers and investors all evening. Sorry."

Jeff gave him a murderous look as he pointed to the wide open schedule.

…

Kurt's face fell, but he didn't let his disappointment show in his voice. "Oh, well. Okay. Maybe another time, then."

"Definitely," Blaine said. "I'm sorry again."

"It's okay, you're busy, I understand. Bye."

He hung up the phone and set it down.

"Well?" Santana demanded.

"He's busy."

"And?"

Kurt sighed and finished serving up the mussels in white wine and garlic butter sauce. "It's pretty obvious he's not interested, okay? Just another one of my foolish hopes."

He carried the bowls of shellfish out to the dining room.

…

"Blaine, what the hell was that? Why did you tell him you couldn't make it? It's obvious he's into you!"

Blaine groaned. "It's too strange, Jeff. Every time I'm around him, things just...happen. Strange things."

Jeff grinned. "He's got you all twisted up in your panties!"

"What? No! It's just...The crab, and Sebastian, and then the dancing with no music! It's too much...weirdness!"

"Come on Blaine, none of those things was really strange! Well maybe except for Sebastian wrecking a bistro. But that was him, not you or this Kurt fellow. Just think about it. Do you really want to be alone for the rest of your life?"

The dark haired man looked affronted. "I'm not alone, Jeff. I have you, and Cooper, and..."

"No offense, but I'm not that into you. And Cooper is your brother. Don't you want someone you can wake up to every morning?"

His boss was stubbornly silent. Jeff sighed in frustration. "Come on, let's go meet with the bankers."

…

Blaine could not stop thinking about the blue eyed man all day. He'd forced himself to stay at the office well past closing time, and finished several projects he'd been working on. By the time he realized he'd procrastinated enough, it was past eleven o'clock.

As he was leaving the store, he passed a display of vanilla scented perfume, with a large potted vanilla orchid as it's center piece. The scent reminded him of the eclairs he had eaten the day before. After only a brief hesitation, he grabbed the orchid off the table. Forty minutes later he was approaching the door of the Southern Cross, just as Kurt was locking up behind him.

"Hey," he said. The other man turned to look at him, a hesitant smile forming on his face.

"Hey. I thought you had a meeting tonight."

Blaine shrugged, feeling a little guilty for the lie. "We finished earlier than I thought. How was your night?"

Kurt stuffed his hands in his pocket, awkwardly. "Busy. My last customers only left about twenty minutes ago. I practically had to kick them out."

Blaine nodded, and then remembered the flower he was holding. "This is for you. It's a..."

"Vanilla orchid, I know. Thank you."

There was another awkward pause. "May I walk you home?" Blaine asked.

"Sure." Kurt turned to the left, and they began to walk in silence. Five steps later, Kurt stopped by a side door. "Well, thank you."

Blaine was confused for a moment, until he realized that the door led to the upstairs apartment. "You live here?"

"For the last three years since moving to New York. I guess this is the part where we pretend we had dinner, and say good night."

"We could. Pretend that we ate, that is. But have we had dessert?" Blaine said with a charming smile. "I don't know about you, but I'm still hungry. Do you know of anyplace around here that makes amazing desserts?"

Kurt smiled. "I think I know a place."

"Great, let's go!"

They walked back to the restaurant door, and Kurt let them in, and led him to the kitchen. He retrieved a blueberry tart and a pan of crème anglaise from the refrigerator. He set the tart aside, and put the pan on the stove to warm.

"So, how was your meeting?"

Blaine sighed. "I lied. I didn't have a meeting tonight. I'm sorry."

Kurt stirred the pan. He'd suspected as much, but had been too polite to call him on it. "I lied too. My last customer left at nine."

Blaine smiled at that, realizing they both felt awkward about what was happening between them. As he watched, Kurt plucked a couple of the flowers from the orchid plant, and crushed them up, filling the room with the scent of vanilla, before dropping the petals into the crème, and stirring them in. A thick, vanilla scented fog began to fill the small kitchen area, and Blaine found himself moving around the stove.

"That smells so good!" He said, in a daze.

"It's the vanilla in the orchid," Kurt replied, also sounding a bit out of it.

Blaine noticed some of the crème had somehow gotten on Kurt's chin. "You have..." he pointed, and then as if drawn to it, he reached out and wiped the taller man's chin with his thumb. Unable to resist, he then brought the thumb to his mouth, licking the crème off. His other thumb found another dollop on Kurt's cheek. "So good!" He murmured as he licked his other thumb. As the fog seemed to fill every inch of space in the kitchen, Blaine found himself kissing Kurt.

Kurt moaned, and returned the kiss, his hands slipping around Blaine's neck. The kiss deepened as Blaine' tongue swiped at Kurt's bottom lip, and he opened his mouth to draw it in. They both groaned as Blaine lowered them to the floor, and they were enveloped in the vanilla scented fog.

From its perch on the top shelf, the crab seemed to wave its claw in victory.


	6. Knives, Grand Theft Pastry, Elevators and Character

The next day, Blaine entered the store with an extra bounce to his step, and whistling. The night before with Kurt had been amazing, even though they hadn't had sex. He'd been content to just hold the pale man and kiss him, surrounded by the mysterious vanilla scented fog.

As he made his way through the ground floor to the stairs, he passed Joe, who was arranging a display of the vanilla orchids. The scent made him pause as a thought occurred to him. "Joe, I want you to order more of these vanilla orchids for the grand opening of the restaurant. I want the entire place smelling like vanilla."

"Okay, but we've already ordered a thousand red roses."

"No, no, forget the roses. Orchids are much better."

"What ever you say, Mr. Anderson, but there may not be a grand opening. Delcroix quit. The airline lost his knives!"

"So buy him new knives. He can't quit over this, he is under contract."

"He doesn't want new knives. He wants His knives."

"Just handle it, Joe."

He walked on to his office, some of his good mood diminished. Jeff met him at the door. "The bankers are here again, and Nick says he'll have your head if you don't join them for an update on the restaurant."

Blaine sighed, his mood sombering even more, even though the previous night still played in the back of his mind. He joined Nick and the bankers. He managed to stay focused through most of the meeting, but towards the end became distracted by a scent tickling his nose. Vanilla and caramel. The scent reminded him of the eclairs Kurt had brought him the other day.

"Would you excuse me, I just remembered there was something I was supposed to do..." He said, ignoring Nick's glare.

He followed the tantalizing scent through the store until he spotted a pair of older women browsing through the intimates section. He thought he recognized them from the restaurant a few days ago. One of the women peered at the price tag on a garment, and he heard her exclaim to the the other woman, "Geesh, Marge, Kurt didn't mention how expensive this place was."

They had to be the ladies he had seen at The Southern Cross the other day, and the scent was definitely emanating from one of the woman's bags. "Excuse me, ladies, I'm sorry to bother you, but is one of you carrying food in their bag?"

The taller woman, Marge, frowned, but replied. "Yes, I have some left overs in my bag from lunch."

Blaine gave her his most charming smile. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to confiscate it. New store policies, no outside food or drink, because of the restaurant, we don't want to attract pests. I'm so sorry, if you could just hand it over, thank you."

The woman handed over the small bakery box, still frowning as Blaine backed away. "Thank you so much for your cooperation, have a wonderful day!"

Feeling somewhat guilty, he made his way quickly to his office before opening the box and looking down at the single caramel eclair inside. He set the box on his desk and went into his bathroom to get a napkin, not noticing Jeff sneaking in to the office. The blonde man went to the desk, and peeked into the box. He grabbed up the sweet treat, and took a bite, just as Blaine returned.

"Jeff, hey! That was mine!"

"You gotta learn to share, Blainey! Oh god, these are so good! Where did you get these? This is amazing!"

"I stole it from two little old ladies! I'm losing my mind, Jeff! And it's all His fault!"

"His? His who?" Jeff said, moaning as he finished the pastry.

"Who? Kurt, that's who! I went to the restaurant last night, and he made this blueberry tart thing with some kind of vanilla custard, and the place was filled with a vanilla scented fog, and we kissed, and now I can't stop thinking about him!"

Jeff smiled. "You like him."

"What? No! I mean, he's cute, and nice, but crazy things keep happening when he's around!"

"You like him," his assistant insisted. "He's got you all twisted up in your panties, and it's scaring you!"

Blaine just frowned at his friend. "Was there a reason you came in here to pester me?"

"The contractor wants to speak to you about the lighting fixtures. Nick says you better do your job or you'll be out on the street."

Blaine sighed and fastened the button on his suit jacket. "Fine."

After his boss had left the office, Jeff went to the desk and picked up the bakery box and the phone, dialing an interoffice number. "Rachel? Yes, I need you to do me a huge favor. I need you to go down to The Southern Cross and purchase as many caramel eclair thingies as you can get. Yes, thank you."

…

After Blaine had handled the issue with the lighting fixtures, he'd been accosted by the contractor laying the floor tiles who wanted to make certain they were installing them properly, and then he'd had to handle the delivery of the tables and chairs and half a dozen other small crises. When he finally finished, he headed to the elevator to go back down to his office.

It seemed to take forever for the elevator to arrive. Finally, the bell dinged, and the door opened. Nick Duvall stepped out, looking uncharacteristically frumpy, straightening his tie and fastening his zipper. He merely nodded at Blaine as he moved past him. Blaine watched him walk away, then turned back to the elevator as Jeff exited, a huge grin on his face, wiping his chin, looking thoroughly debauched. He tossed Blaine an empty pastry box as he followed the chairman of the board into his private office.

Blaine glanced back at the elevator car, and shaking his head, decided to take the stairs.

…

Kurt hadn't been able to stop smiling all day. Last night with Blaine had been incredible. He'd felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing the curly haired man, and never have worried about stopping for air.

His life seemed to be taking a turn for the better. Not only was he certain he was falling in love with the man with laughing hazel eyes, but his restaurant was thriving again. He'd been busy all afternoon filling orders.

"You're going to have to hire someone else to wait tables," Santana had said, taking a short break between customers. "I can't keep up, waiting tables and helping with prep. And there is a guy out there, said his name was Pete Wells or something, who just finished his dessert, and asked to start dinner over again, starting with dessert and working his way back to the main entree. Personally I think if he ate much more we'd have to back him out with a forklift."

Kurt looked at her in shock. "Pete Wells? Santana, don't you know who he is? He's the food critic for the New York Times! Oh my Gaga, what else did he say? Did he like the food?"

Before he could get too worked up, the kitchen door opened up, and Blaine entered. "Wow, Kurt, it's so busy tonight!"

Kurt smiled at him, and was about to reply, when the timer on the stove went off. "Hold that thought!" He said, and hurried to plate up the Mediterranean seafood dish he'd decided to try as that day's dinner special. Somehow Blaine got caught up in the rush, and ended up helping deliver the plates to the waiting customers. It was a couple hours before things settled down, and the two had a chance to sit down and talk over plates of lobster and prawns in a spicy white wine sauce.

"You are an amazing chef, Kurt. This dish is amazing!" Blaine said, using a chunk of fresh baked bread to soak up the last of the sauce on his plate.

Kurt stood up, setting his own dish in the sink, and moving to collect the items to make a peach Melba for dessert. "I didn't used to be this good. It's just lately things have seemed to work out for me. It's like no matter what I make, I don't even have to think about it, it just makes itself."

"You aren't giving yourself enough credit," Blaine said, watching as Kurt took a paring knife and began peeling the peaches. He was fascinated as the skin came off cleanly, and seemed to defy gravity, floating slowly to the counter top. "Those knives are amazing. How do you do that?"

He stood and moved around the center island, entranced. Kurt didn't know what had him so fascinated, but offered him a bite of peach, holding the fruit to the shorter male's lips. Blaine took a bite, and Kurt couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing the juice from the other man's chin. Soon they were kissing each other passionately, holding each other tightly, so engrossed in each other, neither noticed when their feet left the ground, until Blaine's head bumped into the roof.

Startled, they pulled apart. Kurt looked around in wonder. "We're floating!" He exclaimed in delight.

Blaine failed to see the awe in the situation. "What's going on? What did you do? Is this some kind of spell or something?" His voice rose as he began to panic.

"What do you mean, what did I do?" Kurt asked, unsure why the other man was reacting the way he was. "I didn't do this!"

As his feeling of euphoria began to fade, Kurt slowly lowered back to the ground, but Blaine remained pinned against the ceiling. "What are you, some kind of witch? Did you cast some kind of spell on me? Have you been manipulating me the whole time?"

"I haven't done anything!" Kurt said, growing angry. "Why are you so mad at me?"

"Why? I'm stuck on the ceiling, for god's sake! Get me down!"

"What makes you think I had anything to do with this? I'm just as surprised as you are!"

"This isn't funny! I don't know what you are playing at, but I don't like it!"

"You want me to get you down? Fine! Accio Jerk!" The pale boy gestured as if waving a wand. Blaine remained were he was.

"You think this is a joke? You just waltz into my life and turn everything upside down!"

Kurt was furious now. "I turned your life upside down? Well you know what? A man's character is his destiny! I hope you are happy waking up alone for the rest of your life!"

Blaine suddenly crashed to the floor, and struggled up to his feet. "What exactly is that supposed to mean? Is that some kind of curse? You are a witch, aren't you?"

Kurt refused to look at him. "I think you should leave."

"Fine!" Blaine grabbed up his suit jacket from the back of the chair, and stormed out.

Kurt waited until he was certain he was alone before he started to cry. But he wasn't alone. The tiny crab watched the pale man sink to his knees as the sobs wracked him.


	7. Wallets and Witchcraft

When Santana arrived for work the next day, she couldn't help noticing that her boss looked like he'd been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, and the smile he gave her was fake, never reaching his eyes.

"What happened?" Her voice sounded sympathetic, with none of her usual snark.

"Blaine left. He ran away."

"What? Why?"

"We were kissing. And then we were floating."

"Metaphorically floating?"

"Literally floating. I think. I'm so confused."

The Latina reached out and took his hand. "Look, he's probably just as confused as you. You probably just scared him."

"So, what, do I just give up on him?"

"No, you just have to show him that being in love is even better than the falling."

Kurt wiped at his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose I could return his wallet and talk to him."

"You stole his wallet?"

"No! It fell out of his pocket. When we were floating."

"Floating on the ceiling, in here?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes and went to get changed.

…

To say that Jeff was surprised to find his boss in his office so early and looking like he had slept on the couch there was an understatement.

"Blaine? What are you doing here? And why is it so hot in here? I'm going to open a window."

"No! Don't! He might get in!"

"Who?"

"Kurt! He's a witch!"

Jeff grinned. "You succumbed!"

"No! No! I never had a chance! He forced me! I never had a chance! And then I was pinned...to his ceiling." Blaine pulled at his hair as he began to pace. "And then he cursed me! He said in this creepy little voice, 'a man's character is his destiny!'"

"Mmhm," Jeff said, studying his boss, wondering if the man was on drugs. "What a wise which, casting his curses in proverbs."

"Jeff! I know you think I'm insane, but look..."

"It's that old black magic!" The blonde began to sing tauntingly.

"Jeff!"

"It's got you under it's spell!"

"Oh god! If I'd only stuck to the rule about third dates!"

"You wanna know my rule? Eat, drink, love, and take everything in, and give back the same."

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but movement by the door caught his attention. Kurt was standing there, looking lost and forlorn. Blaine didn't believe the act for a second.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded.

"The door," the pale man responded, his voice so soft Blaine could barely hear him. After a second, the other man spoke again, louder this time. "I-I just came to return this to you." He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out Blaine's wallet. "You left it behind."

"Tha-that's fine. Just, uh, leave it on the desk."

Jeff smiled at the auburn haired man. "I take it you're Kurt. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Jeff, and I'm leaving."

Blaine all but panicked at that. "No! No, stay."

Jeff could see the hurt on the newcomer's face, but the other man just nodded. "It's fine."

Jeff glanced between them. "If that's how you want it," he muttered, and moved to stand behind the desk, putting some distance between himself and the other two men.

Kurt sighed and set the wallet down. "Look, I know the last few days have been...odd. But, my life was ordinary, nothing inspired me. And then I met you, and suddenly these amazing things started happening."

He took a step forward, frowning as Blaine took a step back. He sighed and continued. "I can't explain them, and I know that bothers you. Your life has been full of spectacular stuff. But mine hasn't been in a long time. And for the first time in years, I felt like I could do anything. I found my inspiration again."

His voice broke a little, but he kept talking. "I don't know if I need you to keep that feeling, but I know I want you."

Blaine hesitated. "Kurt, I...I think that..." He couldn't seem to formulate words.

Kurt looked down at his feet. "How do you feel? About us?"

There was a long pause. "I don't know, Kurt. I don't know."

They looked at each other for a moment, both lost in thought, when suddenly the door to the office slammed open. Delcroix stormed in, interrupting the moment.

"This is no knife!" The crazed chef shouted, throwing a butcher knife, which embedded itself into the monitor mounted on the wall. "I spit on this knife!"

The Frenchman walked over and spit on the knife he had thrown. He then stabbed the remaining knives he held in his hand into the shelf below the monitor, and picked up a model of the new dining room. "I spit on your restaurant!"

The words were punctuated by another spitting sound. "And finally, I spit on you!"

Before the madman could spit on him, Blaine raised his arms "I get it! I spit on my self, see?" And he pretended to spit on his arm. "Happy now?"

"That is the first intelligent thing you have done." Delcroix declared, glaring at him. "I quit!"

"You can't quit!" Blaine shouted at the man's retreating back. "You're under contract!"

The only reply he got was a one finger salute.

Blaine turned to Jeff. "There! Now do you believe me?"

Kurt lost his temper. "Wait, you think I had something to do with this?"

"Well Kurt, if the broom fits, ride it!"

Before Kurt could respond, Nick stormed into the office, wiping spit from his face. "Anderson, you're an idiot! I just passed Delcroix in the hallway!"

"Nick! Everything is fine!"

"Really? What's the big plan now that you have no chef?" The CEO demanded.

"I've got a plan. I've got a great plan!"

Nick suddenly noticed they had company, and apologized, distractedly. Kurt just nodded. "I was leaving. Excuse me."

Jeff jumped in and caught him before he left. "Wait, Nick. This is Kurt Hummel. He made the eclairs."

It took a moment for Nick to register that remark before he turned to the auburn haired man. "Oh! This is brilliant! You're a genius, Anderson!"

"What! No! No that wasn't..." Blaine began, but was cut off.

"Tell me you're available tomorrow night for the grand opening?" Nick demanded of Kurt.

"What? Oh, I couldn't..."

"Why? You only do desserts?" Nick asked, harshly.

"No, it's just..."

"He's not cooking for..." Blaine started, panicking again. Kurt glared at the curly haired man.

"Blaine told me what a magical Chef Kurt is," Jeff interjected.

"No! Demonic is more like it! He can't do this!" Blaine shouted.

Kurt was furious now. "I can do it! He's being ridiculous! I can do it!" He glared at Blaine.

"It's settled then!" Nick declared. "Kurt is cooking for the opening tomorrow night. And Blaine, you better pull yourself together before then!"

Kurt smiled smugly. Jeff smiled at him. "I'll show you the kitchen."

Before they left, Nick called out. "Oh Jeff, when you finish, can I see you in my office?"

Jeff smirked. "You're the boss."

Nick practically blushed. His reply was just barely above a whisper. "No, this time, you be the boss."

Jeff's grin widened.

…

After Jeff and Kurt had left, Nick confronted Blaine. "What is wrong with you man?"

"It's him! Kurt! He's a witch or something!"

"I don't care if he is the grand wizard of Hogwarts! He's an amazing cook, and he is available tomorrow night! I suggest you get yourself together man! And brush your teeth! You're breath could kill a dragon!" Nick walked out of the office, leaving Blaine alone with his thoughts.

…

Kurt spent a few hours familiarizing himself with the kitchen of the new restaurant, getting a feel for the lay out, locating and taking stock of the pantry. The entire time, he berated himself. Why had he agreed to do this again? To try and impress a guy who obviously didn't want to be with him?

With a frustrated sigh, Kurt gathered up his coat and messenger bag, and headed out of the restaurant. He was walking towards the elevator when Blaine emerged from his office.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asked nervously. He felt like an idiot as soon as the question left his mouth. "Stupid question. You work here. You're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

Blaine remained silent, and Kurt's heart sank. As he usually did when he was nervous, he continued to talk just to fill the silence. "I was just taking inventory and getting the feel for the Kitchen."

"Did..." Blaine cleared his throat. "Did you find everything you need?"

Kurt nodded, "I'm going to do the peach Melba...But you really don't want to know that, do you?"

Once again Blaine was silent. Kurt sighed, and began to walk towards the exit. "Good night, Blaine."

After a hesitation, Blaine called out to him. "Kurt, wait!"

Kurt turned back, trying not to let hope spark in his chest. "Yes?"

"You're not..." Blaine began, but had to clear his throat again. "You're not going to do anything funny tomorrow night, are you?"

Kurt's shoulders sagged, and any hope he may have had died. "No, Blaine. Nothing funny. Nothing funny at all."


	8. You Are What You Eat

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed the next afternoon as he opened the door to his apartment. "What are you doing here?"

He threw himself into Burt's arms for a hug. "Well, Santana called me yesterday afternoon, and said you were going to be cooking at some fancy schmancy shindig tonight, so I thought I'd fly up and visit and help out."

"I'm so happy you're here!" Kurt sighed.

"Uh huh. So, who is he?" Burt asked, knowing his son all too well.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'll tell you about him while I finish packing up the stuff downstairs I need to take with me."

An hour later, he'd finished telling his dad about Blaine, and had nearly finished packing up his supplies, when he noticed something strange hiding behind a canister on the shelves.

"What on Earth are you doing there?" Kurt exclaimed.

"What is it?" Burt asked, eyeing the small creature.

"It's a Peekytoe crab, and if I'm not mistaken it's the same one that bit Blaine."

"Smart crab, I think I like him. You should bring him along just in case this Blaine fellow causes problems."

Kurt laughed, but gently set the small crab on top of his market bag as he finished gathering his utensils.

"Got everything, Boss?" Santana asked a short while later as she finished packing up her own gear.

"Yep," he replied, even though he couldn't help but feel there was something he was forgetting. Deciding it was just nerves, he gathered up his bag and the box of items he was taking, he glanced around once more to make certain. "Ready?"

Leaving Burt behind to freshen up and get changed for later that night, they took Santana's car to Duvall's.

…

Once he'd unpacked his gear in the kitchen at Nick's, he put on his chef's coat, and was checking himself in the mirror to make certain it was buttoned right, when he noticed something missing.

"I forgot my mother's brooch!" He said, catching Santana by the arm as she was passing.

"So?"

"Santana, I can't do this without that brooch! All this started when I put the brooch on! What if without it the food sucks?"

"Kurt, the brooch had nothing to do with your food being good. It was good because you wanted it to be!"

"But..."

"No buts! You have always had it in you to be an amazing cook! You just needed to remember that!"

Kurt studied his best friend's face, seeing her belief in him. He nodded and straightened up, then turned back to his market bag, and pulled out the small crab. He set the crustacean on his work station, and gave it a pat on the head. He then turned and faced the rest of the people who were hustling about the busy kitchen. Nervously he addressed the staff that had been hand picked by his predecessor.

"Um, hello?" His voice was a little breathier than usual, but the others stopped and looked at him. "Hi, I'm Kurt. Hummel. And this is my sous chef, Santana. I will be doing the cooking tonight. I just wanted to introduce myself."

They all just stared at him for a moment, and then returned to what they were doing. All except one man a couple of years older than Kurt, who approached him with the most insincere smile, and spoke in perhaps the worst fake French accent Kurt had ever heard.

"Hello, Monsieur, I am Jessie St. James. I have been Delcroix's sous chef for the past five years. If you would like, I would offer my services and cook in your stead."

Kurt could tell the smarmy man didn't think he was capable of filling in for the five star chef. Heck, Kurt had his own doubts, but he wasn't about to let this arrogant prick steal his thunder.

"Thank you, Jessie, but I have it covered."

The look on the other man's face was one of contempt. "Very well, then. What would you like me to do?"

"Why don't you do what you would normally do."

"I am, Monsieur."

Kurt was confused. "And that would be?"

"Waiting for instructions. Delcroix always gave instructions."

"Fine, you can start on the hors d'oeuvres."

Jessie just smirked. "Already done, Monsieur."

"Okay, then you can prep the peaches for the dessert course."

The other man frowned at him, but gave a slight nod of his head, more of a dismissal than an acknowledgment, before moving on to his prep station.

Kurt watched him go, then took a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to believe in himself.

…

For the next hour he was busy preparing and plating the first course, foie gras with port wine sauce and truffle slippers.

"Jessie, I'm ready for the truffles."

"No truffles, Monsieur."

"What?"

"Delcroix selected the truffles personally. He took them with him."

"How am I supposed to make truffle slippers without the truffles?"

"I do not know, but the real question is, could you have made them with the truffles?" The supposed Frenchman sneered, leaning against the counter. He didn't notice the small crustacean concealed among some greens until the creature pinched him.

"Ahh!"

Kurt tried to smile, but it failed to reach his eyes. Just then Nick and Blaine entered the kitchen.

"Hummel," Nick said. "Everything okay in here?"

Before Kurt could respond, Jessie spoke in French, a cheerful smile on his face. "Nous nageons dans une flaque de merde."

Kurt nearly choked, but apparently Nick didn't speak a word of French. He just nodded his head, a confused look on his face. "Oh, good, good. Carry on then."

Kurt tried to catch Blaine's eye, but the other man wouldn't look at him as he and his boss turned to leave the kitchen. Feeling dejected, he moved back to his station and pulled the pan of port wine sauce towards him. He didn't notice the single teardrop roll down his cheek and drip into the reddish pink sauce, nor did he see the crab wave it's claw as the sauce turned a deeper shade of pink.

Santana moved up to her friend's side. "Come on, Kurt. You can't let them get to you."

After a moment, Kurt pulled himself together, and nodded. Santana smiled at him. "That's better. Now, what do you want to do?"

Kurt thought for a moment. "I'm going to have to change the menu."

Santana smiled at him, then stood up straighter and addressed the room. "Listen up, people! The menu is going to change!"

Kurt glared at Jessie. "You! Jessie! Yes, you, who think I don't speak French! Apportez-moi les figues!"

"Les Figues?"

"Oui! Les Figues!"

Kurt sauteed the figs in duck fat and flambeed them with a little champagne. He assembled the plate, and soon, tuxedoed waiters were carrying the beautiful masterpieces out to the waiting patrons.

...

By now, Burt had arrived, dressed in his best suit, and observed the other well dressed customers as they tasted his son's food, as his own plate was set before him. He'd never been the kind of person to indulge in fancy foods, he was your typical meat and potatoes kind of guy, but as he took his first bite, he had to admit his son was one heck of a good cook.

…

Blaine was too nervous to sit still, and kept pacing, anxiously waiting for the first course to be served. Jeff approached him, looking magnificent in a dark blue suit.

"Come on, Blaine! Relax! Everything will be fine. Sit down, they're bringing out the food now."

"I don't think I can eat, I'm too worried something is gonna go wrong."

"You're going to give yourself an ulcer. Nothing is going to go wrong." The blond man walked away and sat beside Nick, who smiled at him.

Blaine watched as everyone was served and began eating. He could hear murmurs of appreciation. The critic from Food & Wine magazine was heard to exclaim that the choice of fig was a brilliant accompaniment to the foie gras.

Blaine was just starting to relax when he heard it. Someone began weeping. And then another also teared up. Soon everyone in the dining room was sobbing. What the hell was going on? Blaine made his way to Nick's side.

"Everyone is crying!" He said in a panic.

Nick, who was also in tears just gave him a look. "It's fine, Anderson! Everyone enjoys a good cry now and then! Besides, they're loving the food!"

…

Back in the kitchen, Kurt was finishing up the second course, braised duck breast with hazelnut powder and asparagus in a mild herb butter sauce. He hadn't spoken since he began, silently reflecting on how life could change on a whim.

He had just finished plating up the last service when his dad slipped up to his side.

"Listen, kiddo, I don't want to alarm you, but something strange is going on."

"What?" Kurt demanded, fear coursing through him. Without waiting for a reply, both he and Santana ran to the door to peek out at the dining room. Everyone was bawling into their napkins.

Kurt saw Nick grab Blaine by the arm and heard him exclaim, "You're just like my grandfather, but I don't hate you!"

The duo spun back into the kitchen, and Kurt began pacing the kitchen frantically. "Oh Gaga, what have I done? I've ruined everything!"

"Oh Man!" Santana exclaimed, agitated, on the verge of tears herself. "It's my fault!"

"You? This has me written all over it!" Kurt exclaimed.

"We're going to have to move away!" The Latina wailed.

"What are you talking about? Did you eat the food?" He tried to grab the arm of a passing waiter, to try and stop him from serving the duck, but he missed the man as Burt pulled him back.

"I ate the food!" Burt interrupted. "It was amazing, Kurt! You are amazing!"

The pale man was on the verge of hyperventilating, but the elder Hummel kept talking. "There is nothing wrong with the food. They were all enjoying it. They love it! Just calm down, bud."

"Well, Monsieur," Jessie said as Kurt took a deep breath. "I suppose you will be leaving now that you've shocked them all into silence?"

Confused, Kurt, Burt, and Santana went to the kitchen door again to glance out. The patrons were all so silent, the only sound heard was the occasional clank off cutlery on fine china. They all seemed to be in a trance as they ate.

Burt snapped his fingers in front of the person closest to them, and got no reaction. He hustled the other two back into the kitchen.

"What is happening?" Kurt asks, on the verge of freaking out again.

"It's your food!" Burt says, a look of awe and excitement on his face. "You are projecting your emotions into your food!"

"But how is that even possible, Mr. H?" Santana asked, not sure if she believed him or not.

Burt ignored her, and gripped Kurt by the shoulders. "This is your chance, Kurt! You wanted to show that Blaine fellow how much you love him. Show him through your food!"

Kurt studied his father's face for a moment, and saw how much the older man believed in him. Straightening his shoulders, he nodded, and smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

Burt kissed his forehead, and slipped back out to the dinning room, leaving Kurt to consider his options.

As he gathered the ingredients for the dessert, a thought came to him. "Santana, there's going to be another change in the menu!"

Once he had explained what he intended to do, the others, Jessie among them, told him it was impossible.

He just grinned at them. "Watch me."

And after proving it could be done, he handed the last plate over to the wait staff, smiling happily.

"That's it, Santana. I'm going home now."

"But, don't you want to stick around and see if it works?"

"I don't need to. I've realized it's always been inside me to be happy. I don't need anyone else. The ball is in his court now."

…

Blaine watched Nick slice into what appeared to be a fresh, ripe peach, only to see the other man exclaim in delight as a spiral of vanilla scented fog wafted out of the inside, spilling over the plate and down over the table, while a thick, creamy custard oozed out into a puddle of caramel sauce. As more people sliced open their peaches, the ballroom began to resemble a dreamscape. Couples began to drift out onto the dance floor, some of them remembering for the first time in a long time what romance was.

As he watched Nick lead Jeff out onto the floor and begin to sway to the music, Blaine couldn't help recall the dance he had shared with Kurt. It had felt so...good to hold the pale man in his arms. As the vanilla scented mist spread throughout the dining room, Blaine remembered kissing Kurt in the kitchen of The Southern Cross. He hadn't wanted to leave.

He was a fool, he decided. He'd met the most perfect man on the planet, and what had he done? He'd accused him of being a witch, and ruining his life.

"You are such a fricking idiot, Blaine Anderson!" He said to himself. Unable to bear being around all these happy couples, he left the restaurant and began making his way towards his office, absently folding an invoice he'd picked up into a paper airplane as he walked.

He paused by the large bay window across from his office to glance out at the large moon shining down over the city, wondering if he had completely lost his chance with Kurt. As he began to turn away, he glanced down, and noticed a man hailing a taxi. There was something familiar about the man's movements. He looked closer, just as the man began to slip into the backseat of the taxi that had pulled up in front of him.

It was Kurt. Maybe destiny was trying to tell him not to give up. He opened the window and called out, but the taxi door had already closed, and it had begun to pull away.

No! That couldn't be the end. He glanced down at the paper airplane in his hand, and to the open back window of the cab. With a kiss for luck, he took aim, and let the plane fly.

…

Kurt was startled when the paper plane landed in his lap. Glancing back through the back window, he glimpsed the silhouette in the fourth floor window.

"Stop the car!"

…

Blaine had seen the cab stop abruptly, and quickly went out to the show room floor, looking around desperately. He spotted exactly what he was looking for on a large display near the center of floor.

He hastily grabbed it up, and rushed to the elevator.

…

Kurt began to think it might be quicker to take the stairs when the elevator finally arrived. He was surprised when it opened to reveal a mannequin in an blue Thom Ford Suit, with a note pinned to it that read, 'Kurt, wear this, please, B'

Kurt smiled.

…

Blaine had begun to wonder if Kurt had gotten cold feet and decided to leave after all, when the elevator returned nearly thirty minutes after he had sent the suit downstairs. He turned when he heard it ding, his most dashing smile in place, only to have his smile fade when he saw the naked mannequin, another note attached that simply said 'Thanks.'

Unsure what to think, he walked back to the restaurant, his heart sinking.

He stood on the edge of the dance floor, not sure how to proceed.

And then there he was. As the couples on the dance floor waltzed around, they opened a path, and Blaine saw Kurt standing on the far side, looking almost princely in the well fitting suit. The pale man spotted him, and smiled. They both began walking towards each other.

"I had to stop for shoes," Kurt explained, his voice breathy.

"You look beautiful," Blaine said, in awe. The taller man's smile grew even wider, and Blaine felt a wrenching in his chest. "Kurt, I am so sorry for the things I said to you. I was just so afraid to fall in love, when the truth is, I think I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you."

"You mean when I had my hand on your calf?" Kurt asked with a mischievous grin.

Blaine had to return the smile. "Yes."

"Men are so easy!" Kurt said, and then kissed him. Everyone else on the dance floor disappeared as they kissed, Blaine pulling him closer, as Kurt's hand slipped into his curls. When they finally broke the kiss, they began to dance, clinging tightly to each other.

And their feet left the floor...


End file.
